


From a Distance

by NierQ



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, F/M, Memory Loss, a bit cracky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-22 13:03:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22583260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NierQ/pseuds/NierQ
Summary: Modern!AU with some supernatural bits
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 20
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

He lets his hands run over the back of a chair and is amazed at how memory sets in again. It's a puzzle with pieces falling back in place and Geralt faintly remembers moving in and how they spent the entire evening sitting at this table playing cards. It was something he usually doesn't allow himself to dream about. Normal, almost domestic.  
How Vesemir had fallen asleep at one point, with his head leaning back and his mouth falling wide open. He remembers how he wondered how much longer they'd be patrolling together.  
How Lambert had ended up with more drinks than he could handle and Yennefer had grumbled at the fact that he'd be staying on the couch that night.

He had just assumed she'd be here when he gets out. One of the first memories coming back to him had been the scent she always wears. Then, waking up and feeling her warm breath against his chest with the comfortable weight of her head against his shoulder.  
But looking around his flat, there's no trace of her. No piece of clothing or even a hair pin or a trail of her scent. He warily checks his fridge for any recently bought food, but it's empty and spotless. But he knows she has her own coffee mug in his flat; he remembers buying it. He also swears he never put it on the top shelf on purpose, to either watch her try to reach it or have her growl at him to get it.  
He's not too sure where his car is, but he knows the second drawer is hers, where she keeps a change of clothes and that shirt of his she slept in the first night she stayed over. But there's no mug that changes colors on any shelf and when he opens the drawer, only a few bundles of his own socks roll around in it.  
Geralt rubs his head as if to help his brain along. The memories are slowly flooding back, in random little packages, but they collide with what he sees.

The knock on his door startles him.  
"Wanted to drop off your things." Vesemir's words almost sound like an apology. "Wasn't sure if you're home yet, but the lights were on. So either they brought you home or someone was having a very disappointing break-in. How're you doing?" He's carrying some luggage and Geralt is intrigued when he sees their company's label on it.  
"Fine."  
His visitor nods, puts the suitcase down on the table and takes out the small plastic bags with Geralt's personal items that had been confiscated. "I don't think they kept anything, just checked for anything unusual, probably."  
He snatches the bag with his phone from Vesemir's hands and isn't even surprised when it turns on.  
"Must've used it, this battery was constantly dead.”  
"Not like you use it much yourself." His colleague shrugs. He watches Geralt scroll through his phone, growing frustrated.  
"It's not on here," he groans.  
"What isn't?"  
"Yen's number."  
"Ah."  
Vesemir nods awkwardly. He'd hoped his friend had remembered by now, or they could've switched the subject to something nicer. Werewolves, he thought. Those were nice and, especially, simple.  
"We weren't supposed to tell you things before therapy, let your memories come back naturally." He sits down at the table and motions for Geralt to join him.  
"You broke up about a week before the... incident in the woods."  
"What?" It's a cold shower hitting his back like regret.  
"...so about three months ago, a bit more maybe."  
"What, why? That can't be right!"  
"Well, I don't want to disagree, but as far as I know you broke up with her." Vesemir points at Geralt as if to make sure that everyone knows he had nothing to do with any of this. And he really doesn't know much about what went on himself and he isn't one to press. Geralt has always been rather private, but he'd noticed when things had changed and his younger colleague had begun to get more reckless. Which he doesn't approve of much, after all, he'd like to retire some distant day.

"Horseshit."  
Geralt swipes through his phone again, looking for messages, anything. Not even a photo? That really can't be right. It's like she never was in his life and suddenly the air feels warm and sticky and he needs to breathe. He yanks the dusty window open with an annoyed grunt and it creaks in protest. The sky is dark and the streetlights throw reflections on the rain-soaked street, rather fitting his mood. He's not the type for outbursts, he'll clench his jaw and let the agitation gnaw on his insides while deciding what to do. Usually agitation doesn't hurt like this though, this low in his stomach. And usually Yennefer would be there, having the outburst for him.

"You don't know what happened, maybe there was a good reason," Vesemir points out. He trusts his colleague with his life, and he has to, according to their unofficial job description. But he can't quite trust his judgement when it comes to her. "Maybe something happened?"

"I'll find out what then," Geralt decides, as if things were simple. He takes a deep breath and shuffles through the plastic bags until he finds the keys to his car. "Know where she lives, after all, been there often enough."

"Wait, wait, I'll drive," Vesemir interrupts his hectic string of thoughts.  
It's not just that he doesn't trust Geralt's questionable car this time.

"Fine."

+++

Geralt rather vividly remembers driving this way to drop her off before heading to work so many times. It's a house right across the park and a flat twice as large as his. And the lights are on. He grunts in relief and wipes his hands on his coat before heading out.

The woman staring at him from Yennefer's flat is very pretty, but definitely not her. There's a toddler clinging to her legs and Vesemir apologizes for disturbing them.  
"Do you know where she is, the woman who lived here before you? When did you move here?" The woman looks up at him uncomfortably and starts closing the door in his face.  
"Sorry, I don't know you."

They sit in the car for a while in silence.  
"I'll go by Tissaia's then."  
"Geralt, I'm not driving to Tissaia's at 10pm. That's not going to end well."

Geralt can't really argue with that.

"Maybe it'll come back to you by tomorrow."


	2. Chapter 2

Geralt doesn't realize it's a dream until he's already woken up. Sometimes he'd have those special ones, dreams where he suddenly notices that the sky is a dark green and the sun is an orange. This time there's grass, nothing unusual. It stands so high it almost reaches his hips and there's a childish urge to run and hide in it bubbling up from somewhere. He thinks there’s a road running behind the grass somewhere, no, he’s certain they’re train tracks that are rarely used nowadays. The sun stands low and throws comfortable, yellow light over the scenery. He even hears a train approaching, as if to confirm his memory. It's almost a pretty picture until a child's piercing scream interrupts his thoughts. He looks around, but all he can see is the field and now the black, imposing steam train bursting through it.   
"Hey! You okay?" He hears his voice yell and his heart race in his chest.  
"I didn't know!" It's a quieter voice now, less shrill and much closer. 

His head still aches and his heart thumps up to his neck when he abruptly comes to his senses. The room has cooled down considerably and he's still managed to wake up sweaty. It takes a while for the rush of adrenaline to ebb away and he can sort his thoughts.  
Looking for more pieces of his own puzzle has become a daily ritual, actively searching and hoping to find more bits of his memory. But all he's finding are familiarities that clearly aren't real. He can't place the dream either, but he's always had nightmares. 

Geralt feels a bit better when he makes it outside into the rain-cleared air. His car is still missing, he's checked the garage, where he never parks anyway because that's not a good place to be locked in with a vampire (the other incident, this one two years ago and Eskel had saved his ass). The outside parking lot is almost empty. He thinks to call Vesemir for a moment, but then decides to walk. The car is probably at work, they wouldn't have left it in those woods.

He doesn't live far from the city center with the consulting firm Yennefer would disappear into. It's not one of the old grey stone buildings he'd frequently patrol with Vesemir. You do have to check up on those regularly or you might end up with a golem in the sewers and it's a lot easier to nip that problem in the bud before it comes alive. 

This building looks pure blue and black glass and like it has security personnel that won't let him in. It's not that he would usually have any urge to either. Geralt asks for Yennefer and the suited man at the reception doesn't find her in their system. Is he sure he's even at the right address?   
Tissaia is his second option that he already expected to need and the receptionist looks at him with raised eyebrows before dialing a number.  
He's not too sure how much work Yennefer has actually done for Tissaia, but he's met her a few times at dinners where each course would have fit on one spoon. Those nights never went too well, often ending with Yennefer grumbling about the firm on their way home and him nodding along, without much clue about Tissaia's subtle blows and with one reassuring hand on her knee. Maybe not so bad, those nights.

"I haven't requested your services, as far as I recall?"   
She's an imposing figure despite her height.   
"I have some questions, can we speak? In private?" he asks.  
It's a thin smile Geralt gets as she leads him onto an elevator. He's not a fan of them, too cramped and no exits. At least there's no jingle music in this one. 

"Have you recovered well?"  
"Suppose so. You know, then?"  
"I've heard," she says. 

The hallway on this floor stretches out far but she opens the first door, so he doesn't get much of a chance to look around. It's a cold meeting room, not her office with decorations or pictures on her desk. What kind of pictures would Tissaia have on her desk, anyway?

"Yennefer isn't here anymore, is she?"   
"No, I can tell you that much."  
"But not much more?"   
She pours them some water and seems to consider what she wants to say. 

"Can you not or did she just ask you not to?" He's tense and getting annoyed.

"Geralt, I don't usually have to deal with employees' ex-boyfriends."

"I don't remember things," he begins, "Can you tell me if she's doing alright at least?"

"I'll ask at our next girls' night out."

"What?"

"I haven't seen Yennefer in months. I wouldn't know."

Geralt sighs. "I can't recall breaking up with her." It's what he hadn't wanted to tell her at all. "I just want to talk to her. If she doesn't want me around I won't contact her again."

Her features soften a bit as he talks, almost a smile ghosting around her mouth.  
"So this is professional."

"Well…," he starts and looks down at his hands, pressed together with whitened knuckles.

"You still haven't figured out what got you into this state and whatever it is could be a danger for the public." 

Geralt smirks. His long break has slowed him down a bit, it seems.   
"Could pose a great risk, indeed."

He ends up with a slip of paper in his hand, with Tissaia's neat handwriting on it, spelling out an address that he estimates to be a 5 or 6 hour drive away. Not too bad as long as he finds his car. It's a fresh sliver of hope, though he has to admit to himself that he feels a bit ridiculous for not even considering the professional approach.

Their base is far off the grid, but at least there are plenty of ways to get there. His cab drops him off at the main building's front entrance. It's an old industrial complex behind a high fence, the top of it vibrating with energy. Almost intimidating if he hadn't spent most of his life here already. He checks in and ends up getting pulled into one of their examination rooms within seconds. Should've guessed that part.

The bite is mostly healed though it has left quite a scar on the side of his stomach. It's stretched long and still glaring an angry red, but not unusual. The two men in white coats take new photos of it anyway.   
"You guys know where they put my car?"  
Geralt knows there's no point asking them to hurry.   
"It's still quarantined. We can organize a different one for you after this."  
"What's it still quarantined for? If you haven't found anything by now…," he shrugs. "And I was attacked outside the car anyway."  
They poke and prod until Vesemir finds him, but Geralt insists on tracking his new clue alone. His friend only gives him a knowing look in return.


	3. Chapter 3

Geralt will admit he underestimated the drive. The street lights are so dim he can barely make out the names of the quiet roads. The past night's dream hadn't exactly left him well rested and he can feel his exhaustion on his shoulders as he drives the inconspicuous old Volvo they had given him through the part of town Tissaia's address has led him to. He pulls into the parking lot of a run-down building with an abandoned old shop on the ground floor. This entire area already seems wrong; he's never known Yennefer to stay in places like this. Does she need to now? She's never talked about money but always seemed to be able to live without a care in that regard.

He tries the doorbell for the flat number on the piece of paper, but figures they aren't even hooked up to anything. The door doesn't look too sturdy though. He gives it a nudge and grimly notes that someone else must have broken the lock long before him. The lights in the narrow hallway won't turn on either. This is either a shoddy trap or something's gone wrong. When he makes his way up the stairs looking for number 350, he sees that there must be people occupying most flats after all. Some loud, some muffled voices behind doors and items stacked outside them. 

There's no doorbell on 350 at all. He presses his ear to the door. It smells like rotting wood and he can hear faint steps inside. His quiet knock causes a loud bang, as if something heavy was dropped on a tile floor. Then, silence and whoever is inside seems to have frozen in their step.  
Geralt knocks again. Shoddy trap, hopefully. His hand finds the dagger he keeps in a belt pocket.  
"Yennefer? It's me." He tries to sound upbeat, like a friend dropping in on a Friday night.   
The light steps inside approach the door very quickly, but quietly.  
"It's Geralt." It just has to be a trap. And his voice is still talking even though he knows it's a terrible idea. "I just want to talk. Or help?"

He can sense someone on the other side. A lock clicks and the door falls open, barely an inch. He takes a step back. There's still a padlock keeping it locked, he notes. Only then does he see there's someone staring at him and it's definitely not Yennefer. It's a kid, just a little girl of maybe 12 years.   
He scrambles backwards, already backing against the dingy wall. Great, now he's some creep who knocks on random doors and scares kids. He looks down at the slip of paper with the address. But it is the right one, the one Tissaia had jotted down, he's sure of it.  
"You're Geralt, the Witcher?" she asks, voice thin and full of worry.  
"Yeah," he tries to make his voice sound soft, but it comes out dry and raspy. He holds up his dagger for her to see, his emblem shimmering at its grip. "I was just looking for someone, but seems I've got the wrong house."   
Her green eyes consider him and his weapon for a moment. A kid wouldn't be involved in a trap and Yennefer wouldn't have gotten a kid somewhere.  
A flash of ashen hair inside, the door closes and he hears her fussing with the padlock. The door flies open and he knows with the first step inside he's in the right place after all. He'd know that scent anywhere.  
He's walked directly into the kitchen and recognizes her coat hanging over a chair, her books on the living room table on the other side of the counter.

"Can you help, I can't get it to stop bleeding."  
The words rattle him out of his frozen reminiscing state.  
The girl has locked up behind them and picks up the bowl she seems to have dropped on the kitchen floor. She grabs a few towels from the counter and hurries into what seems to be the only bedroom.  
He's behind her in a flash but wasn't prepared for a reunion like this.   
The bedroom is dark as the rest of the flat, the blinds shut firmly. She's on her side, hair a sweaty, tangled mess and a few bloody towels already next to her on the bed.  
"Yen?" He's working against the fear that's settling in his bones.   
"I don't think she's awake," the girl says, pressing a fresh piece of cloth to Yennefer's thigh where she'd cut the jeans off her leg. "I tried to keep her talking, but…" her voice trails off.   
It's a nasty gash, spanning almost from her hip down to her knee. He's seen these before, but usually on other witchers after fighting beasts with considerable claws. Her breathing is shallow but her pulse feels better, so he hopes whatever serum that might've clung to those claws didn't get far.

Geralt throws his bag down and pulls out his first aid kit. At least this he knows how to handle, almost by instinct, he'll worry about the rest later. The kid looks relieved when he takes over with quick, experienced motions. She brings him what he demands and he can't deny she's a quick thinker. Might've done this before even. When he's applying the last layer of firm dressing, the girl crawls up next to Yennefer, gently brushing her hair from her face and cleaning it with a wet towel. Geralt almost feels like he's intruding. 

"What kind of beast was it?" 

The girl turns to him and shrugs slowly, but her hand rests on Yennefer's arm reassuringly. 

"We don't know what it is exactly."

"So it's still out there?" 

"We've been trying to keep it...shackled? That's what Yennefer called it."

"'We'? Are you helping her?" The girl looks at him uncomfortably as if unsure how much to trust him. He realizes the vulnerable position they're in. Maybe he's taken her gestures as comforting when they'd actually been protective. But from him?

"What's your name?"

"Ciri."


	4. Chapter 4

Ciri’s never seen a fire like this one before. The flames lick up the small attached stables of her family’s home like they’ve devoured the rest of the house, leaving nothing but a burned husk. She circles the house, coughing into the thick mix of dust and and smoke. It has to be dead, she thinks, and listens as the sirens approach the quiet area of the farm. Maybe the woman dresses in black has taken it with her. There’s no way she’s made it out before the roof collapsed. Ciri rubs her reddened eyes with the sleeve of her dirty sweater. 

“Are you mad? Run!” 

She lets out a squeak when the woman grabs her hand and almost twists her arm to pull her into the woods. They run until her throat hurts and they can't smell the smoke anymore. Ciri looks back over her shoulder. She’d really wanted to see the beast dead. 

“It’s not dead,” the woman breathes raggedly. They cower behind a large tree to catch their breath. “Stop thinking so loudly or it will hear you.” She sounds annoyed. Ciri decides she’s never seen a woman like this before, either. "Do you have no control whatsoever?"  
The girl feels that things have been rather out of control ever since the beast had first appeared but that was probably not what she means. 

"Where are your parents?"

That she knows for sure, she's seen it happen. 

"I.." She also knows she'll get in trouble if anyone finds out. She looks up at the thick blanket of leaves above them. She’s not going to cry. She’s been on her own for a little while now and she’s been fine, basically grown up. And they don’t cry, at least her parents never had.

"I see," the look the woman gives her is almost apologetic and the girl knows she won't forget those eyes anymore. "I won't tell."

She notices it then. It's a warm feeling she's been familiar with but that she hasn't known.   
"You're a mage," Ciri whispers in a breathy voice. "I won't tell, either." If you share a secret, it’s almost the same as a promise. 

They get back up and this time Ciri reaches for her hand. It’s cool and soft with perfectly manicured nails and she cringes at her own grimy fingers in hers. "Let's get you somewhere safe for now."

+++

He'd suggested to let Ciri sleep while he watches over them but the girl had vehemently disagreed. He’d raised his eyebrows but refrained from arguing. The thought that she’s obviously told the kid about him does make him smile a bit. It feels too intruding to sit on the foot of the bed, which is strange considering it's his girlfriend in it, but he grabs a chair and settles down next to them instead. He's relieved to see that Yennefer's features have relaxed a bit. Not quite like they were at home though, when she'd slept in his bed and he'd look over to see if she was having nightmares. The way her face still looks exhausted worries him a bit.

It suddenly dawns on him then that this girl sitting there very comfortably with Yennefer probably has parents worrying about her somewhere. "Should I take you home? To your family? I can take care of Yen so she's not alone."

"You're not taking her with you.*

"What? No, I'd never -"

“No.”

Her arms are crossed and she glares at him and he definitely knows where he’s seen that before. 

"How'd you end up here then?" he tries to start a conversation that will bring him some insight.

"It's safe here," she explains, like it's a universal truth he's too oblivious to see. A comfortable silence settles between them in which Ciri's eyes keep falling shut and she jerks awake seconds later. He has so many questions to ask.

Geralt hears Yennefer’s sharp intake of breath when she wakes up before she realizes he's there. It's familiar, he usually sleeps less and is up before her. She's always a bit dazed and grumpy. But this time she stirs, her hand searching the mattress next to her until Ciri takes it. 

"You okay?" She mumbles, eyes slowly fluttering open and adjusting to the light from the lamp on the bedside table. 

"Yeah. Does it hurt?"

Geralt gets up and crouches down next to the head of the bed. Her eyes finally settle on him and all he sees is a short moment of panic before she tries to scoot away from him and sit up. It doesn't quite work, her leg too heavy and held in place by layers of cloth.

"What the fuck, Geralt?"

He feels a pang of guilt and he's not sure what for. 

"Yen-"

"It's fine," Ciri says, still holding onto her hand. "He's not sick anymore. He helped even."

Yennefer eyes him carefully until the initial tension leaves her shoulders.

"What do you mean, 'sick'"? He asks. 

"I know you were sick. At first, when you were at the door, I thought you’re still sick, but you didn’t look it," Ciri says.   
Yennefer turns to the girl and gives her a tired smile. 

"Ciri, would you go around downstairs and see if Jo has some mistletoe for us?"

"Sure!" She jumps up and dashes out of the room, leaving Geralt and Yennefer in an awkward silence. 

"How are you feeling?" she asks and motions for him to come closer. He knows he should be the one asking that question. His mouth opens and he doesn't know what to say, it's a question he hasn't asked himself in a while. Her hand traces his face and he can't help but lean into her touch. 

"Something bit me," he touches the side of his chest carefully, where the skin is still angry and red underneath his shirt. "Got sick then. Lost my memory, but I don't know what caused it. Can't remember everything yet either." He looks around rather helplessly and brushes his fingers over his stubborn temple. "I'm trying to find out what happened."  
His throat feels dry and like he’s been screaming. "I don't remember what happened with us." 

"Hmm. The memory loss might've been a side effect," she says. She sounds like she's just thinking out loud. "Geralt, something had happened to you." 

He sits down next to her on the bed and he wants to badly to just put his arm around her, but the way she still flinches a bit when the mattress dips tells him to keep his hands to himself.

"I had an idea of what you'd done - because you'd mentioned that ridiculous self-endangering plan before." She throws a glare his way, but her fingers nervously fiddle with the hem of her shirt. "We'd been tracking a beast we couldn't beat. And you'd found resources about a form of mutation they used to do to Witchers aeons ago."

The memory hits him like a brick. The beast was attracted to magic - specific forms of it. He remembers standing in an abandoned tract of their headquarters, studying incomplete notes about a way to temporarily change himself. Even Vesemir had told him his idea was terrible. But it had come after them, after Yennefer, multiple times, even in hiding. And nothing they'd tried had helped. 

"Hmm," he grunts.

"I see you know what I'm talking about. Geralt, these changes weren't going to be temporary," she insists, but her voice begins to waiver. "And you didn't even have any complete notes of the rituals." It's a laugh, almost, that escapes her lips, but a bitter one.

He remembers wanting so badly to protect them. And he'll admit he hadn't really considered how his carelessness would upset her. He'd found mages willing to do work Yennefer refused to do. Out of an old habit, he reaches for her hand and she lets him. She feels colder than usual. He leans back against the headboard, his hands trying to warm up hers absentmindedly.

"So you reversed it," he finally says.

"I tried. You-" she shifts and he'd like to think she's trying to close the space between them, but he can't be sure. "You'd changed." 

They hear the front door open and slam shut. 

"Want me to make something with the mistletoe?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though I hadn’t intended to, in order to line up my timelines a bit cleaner, I had to write this chapter first. Thank you for reading <3

She remembers coming to her senses here before, after a hot summer evening spent at a dingy little bar. She’d been sprawled out on the back seat that time as well, but Geralt had opted for sitting up while she rested her head on his lap. That time had been nice, when she’d woken up from his warm hands brushing her hair aside and with a gentle "good morning". 

Right. That won't happen anymore. They'd just partner up and be professionals. When necessary.

This time Yennefer is alone in the back and she feels the car is moving before she opens her eyes. She tries to remember where they're going but her mind is coming up blank. There are trees flashing by outside and the afternoon sun has warmed up the car considerably. Her mouth is dry as if she's been out for a while, the taste on her tongue unfamiliar. She tries to sit up, but a jolt of pain goes through her temple and she opts to let her head rest a little while longer.

"You're up," his voice says, "that's good, we're almost there."

"We're almost where?" 

She tries to meet his eyes in the mirror but he's looking straight ahead.

"Geralt, tell me where we're going."

He sighs.

"We're going to a little farm to find the beast. Maybe kill it," he says, casually, like they haven't been trying that multiple times before.

She squints and finally sits up, ignoring the pounding headache. It's only then that she feels the metal around her wrists and white, cold panic crawls up the back of her neck. 

"Did you put those on?" It comes out more shrill and shaking than she had intended. She pulls and prods, but they’re sitting skin-tight.

"Sorry, I know they make you nauseous, but you made things really unnecessarily difficult."

Maybe he didn't get real ones, maybe they're cheap black market bracelets that aren't full dimeritium. Maybe, maybe. She moves her hand in an attempt to cast, and recoils at the sharp pain.

"Now you're just making it worse," he says with an irritated tone.   
He makes a sharp right turn and they're off the road, the beat-up car struggling a bit with the muddy road. 

"What the fuck, how is that going to help anything?" 

"Yen-" 

She cringes at the nickname; it's not something she wants to hear him say ever again. 

"And do not call me that."

"Yen," he starts again, louder and more annoyed. "It's a numbers game, I see that now."

"What?" She's trying to keep a cool head, which is becoming harder and harder. The holster around her waist, where she keeps a small concealed knife, isn't there either. Expected that much.

"We need to find out how to get rid of it permanently," he says, as if he's talking to a child that's having a particularly slow day, "It's attracted to magical energy and we don't know why. So instead of wasting more time and more innocent people being killed, we'll find out now."

"Are you insane?"  
She's serious. There's not much she knows about what he's done to his body and what side effects it had on his brain but if he's actually made himself stronger and added more recklessness, she'll have no chance.

"Think of it like this: it's one person for the greater good; you could be saving a lot of people if I find out what it wants."

She's stunned, rage dampened by the nausea the rare metal brought on. The car comes to a halt in front of an abandoned farm.

"Remember that cottage we went to the other weekend?"

Their eyes meet in the mirror, the seatbelt releasing with a click. He doesn't wait for an answer.

"That thing found us within a night, so attracted by whatever energy you possess."

He gets out and finally unlocks her car door. Her gaze wanders to the bundle of keys. Geralt has always been pretty bad keeping his trinkets and bags in order, there’s probably keys to his last three cars and flats amongst those.

"This place has a similar energy, it's killed here before, so this should be even easier." She's not going to move, so he extends his hand. As if she'd take it.

"So you can watch me get killed without having to waste time waiting." 

She's not given too much thought to how she'd like to die exactly but this surely isn't a way she’d consider appropriate.

"No, we don't know if it'll kill you. That's what I want to know."

His hand closes around her arm. 

"Yen, we both know I can carry you over there easily."

Yennefer has always been stubborn and he can drag her there on the floor for all she cares.   
But when he does pull on her and lifts her up in his arms, it's too much, he still smells like Geralt and this is way too reminiscent of times in this position with a lot fewer clothes on and she'd rather walk down the plank herself than like this.  
The farm looks like it's been empty for a while, no noises coming from the stables and most of the windows broken.

"It's entirely abandoned, the folks got killed by it."  
He catches her glare and takes her arm again, grip hard enough to leave a mark later. Not that it matters. "No magical energy about them at all; they just were at the wrong place at the wrong time."

Almost no light reaches the basement, only a few shafts of sunlight find their way through a small window above them and the bracelets tighten a bit when he fastens them to a beam with a heavy leather strap. The basement hasn't been used much but to store old furniture it seems.  
Geralt settles down across from her, at a safe distance. It's then, when the floor begins to rumble a bit and he checks his bag for supplies, that she sees a flash of blue from up the stairs they just walked down. It's a challenge to keep her expression straight but she's had enough practice. Maybe that's her one way out, a random squatter who thought they’d caught a lucky break. 

The last window upstairs shatters when the basement floor crumbles open like it's made of dry sand.   
"Oh no no no NO, not yet!" she hears it practically screaming in her head, in a panicked child's voice she doesn’t recognize.

Geralt jumps, sword readied and tense. She pulls on the bindings tentatively but there's nothing she can do this way. 

"A wyvern!" she hears the voice again and Yennefer can see the resemblance, but it's not quite right, although the head bears some similarities. A pale face stares down the basement and she realizes it's really just a girl and she’s way too close.

"Run! Get away!" There's no way they're dragging an innocent child into this. The girl shrieks back and the giant snake-like body bursts through the floor. The yelling in her head continues and it dawns on her that this clueless child that can't control herself. The creature's tail is covered in spikes that thrash close to Geralt, separating them and forcing him into a corner. Thin arms with scythe-like claws extend her way, this is how she'll find her end, then. 

But the creature seems to hear the child, the silly child upstairs that still hasn't been obedient enough to disappear into the woods as fast as her skinny legs would carry her. It almost sounds like she's trying to enchant the beast using a pitiful banishment. With a loud crash it turns around towards the child, breaking the beam fastening her into place with a thrash of its tail.  
Geralt is definitely not capable of telepathy, but she's certain she can still hear his "Fuck" loud and clear across the crumbling building.  
Yennefer isn't much of a sword fighter, but she's quick and small enough to lift herself up and out the tiny square window. The car door stands wide open, the key still in the door and her fingers shake, going through the bundle, and finally unlocking the tight bracelets when she sees the girl in the open front door, the creature clearly interested in whatever she's saying. Her energy is weakened, but it's enough to conjure up a fire that hits the roof of the house with a blast.

Yennefer stumbles backwards as the house goes up in flames as if it has been soaked in alcoholic liquid. The monster gives a loud shriek that has all the birds in the trees around them fly off, but it retreats back, to the basement, maybe into the cool earth and the sewers.   
She knows Geralt better and has read more about the possible mutation effects than to assume he won’t survive the building collapsing over him. But she's not going to stay and find out about the details. For now, at least.

Yennefer has an idea where she'll find shelter, at least temporarily. She pockets the bracelets and rushes to the back of the house, almost running into the disobedient, disheveled child rooted to the ground, watching the burning house like it's a damn bonfire. The last thing she needs right now is someone vulnerable depending on her. But she can’t leave her here; she'll at least drop her off at her parents to keep her out of her hair.

____

Ciri pokes into the warm room, holding a bundle of herbs. Her eyes drop to Geralt's hands for a moment, still enclosing Yennefer's fingers.

"You can spread it out to dry properly; I need it to sit overnight to use it on the cut tomorrow."

"Mhhkay."

"Or give it to me please, if it's too hard."

"It's not hard."

She leaves the door wide open and there's a loud crash from the kitchen followed by an annoyed grunt. Yennefer winces, but doesn’t say anything.

“Where did you pick up a kid?” he finally asks; it’s been itching him ever since he’s walked in the door. 

“I’m keeping her safe for now,” she says quietly, “we can speak about it tomorrow. I don’t much appreciate being spoken about like I can’t hear either.” 

Geralt feels slightly reprimanded and scoots over, keeping an eye on the door. 

"Do you think reversing the mutation worked?"

Yennefer considers him for a long time.

"Mh. It must have taken. At least in part."

"Must've done some idiotic things," he mumbles and pulls her hand up to plant a kiss on the back of it, like he’s done it many times before, but she draws her hand back into her lap. 

“I think we all need some rest. You can sleep on the couch if you’d like. It’s not uncomfortable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of wanted to run with the trials turned dark, and I may have gone off the deep end a bit. Better times in the next one, I hope!


	6. Chapter 6

It's almost dark when they make it to signs of actual civilization, a dingy little bus stop that'll get them a bit further away at least. It'll all be easier after some rest, when she has her energy back.  
Yennefer reaches into her shirt and pulls a few bills from her bra, Ciri's eyes following her hands and staring in fascination.  
"Are you going to call the police?"  
She stops counting her cash and looks down into large, worried eyes.  
"Do you want me to?"  
"No."  
"Then I won't," Yennefer assures her. She's not sure what the police would do tonight, when the girl has no parents to go to.  
"Where are we going?"  
"The southern mages' quarters. I'll remain there for a while, at least."  
Ciri draws patterns in the grassy dirt with the tip of her boot.  
"My mom said the mages' quarters are nasty."  
Yennefer shrugs.  
"I can drop you off somewhere else?"  
"No," she mumbles.  
"See, it's not the time to be choosy. And it's safe."  
They don't come with the best reputation, she'll admit. Some folks are brought there against their will, after accidentally conjuring up a frog and melting the house plants in the process. Others come on their own, surrendering or avoiding trouble. It's an obscure, diluted mess of energy with intricate protective walls and should make tracking them difficult. 

The bus takes its time and they're shivering by the time it arrives. It brings them into the next town, where Yennefer finds a bar to call Tissaia. Her replies are short, but there's been a time when she'd made the same trip, with a cursing Yennefer in tow then, so she makes sure they find a place to stay.

The girl is exhausted and falls asleep during the cab ride already, her damp breath slowly clouding up the window. She wrinkles her nose when they get out of the car and it doesn't get better when they open the door to their temporary home. It's exactly how Yennefer remembers it and it's strange how this place feels more like home than her flat. A tiny 1 bedroom place that Tissaia has managed to organize, one where you can step in and stand right in the bright green kitchen. 

"You can take a shower before going to bed," Yennefer suggests gently.

"I'm good, I'll do it tomorrow."

"You should, you kind of reek." It slips out before she can give it much thought, like something she'd say with a smile in a hug after a long day. She means no harm with it, really doesn't, but Ciri looks mortified. "Sorry. So do I probably," she looks down her own body and makes her best attempt to smile, "I'll go after you, promise."

By the time Yennefer has had her turn in the shower, Ciri's sprawled out across the bed asleep, hugging one of the pillows to her chest. The couch that takes up most of the living room looks like the only reasonably option. Just for one night. She closes the bedroom door and tries to settle down with a blanket, pulling it almost up to her nose. The walls are thin, quiet thumps and the sound of running water seems to come from every corner.  
Someday soon she'll have to get someone to pick some of her things up. She groans at the thought, usually the few boring official dinners were the only times she'd let work and personal life cross.  
And finding out what happened to Geralt and what state he's in would be next. The thought alone makes her nauseous again, but there's a part of her that still thinks he'll recover and turn back into himself. There's no way they'll pick things back up where they left off, not after today. But then she won't have to deal with that other option of dealing with him that she's been aggressively ignoring.  
She'd need help from someone who actually knew the rituals and she's not exactly built long-lasting friendships with other Witchers. If he even wants the effects reversed at all; she can't deny they'd made him stronger.  
She turns on the narrow couch. The deep, monotone voice from next door won't quiet down and keeps ripping her from her thoughts.

"Can you just fucking-" 

She freezes when she hears the voice is coming from the bedroom. Yennefer wraps herself in her blanket and inches closer to the door. Ciri was alone when she'd closed it, she's sure of that much. 

But the deep, monotone voice is coming from Ciri's moving lips. Her eyes are still closed, but her pupils are twitching nervously and she's grasping at the thin sheets so hard her knuckles turn white.  
The language is ancient and Yennefer knows it quite well, but this spell or chant is strange even to her.  
She crawls on top of the bed next to her and settles her hand on the girl's temple, feeling her fear and uncertainty about whatever it is that haunts her at night. There's nothing she can see clearly, only the effects of it giving her chills.  
A quiet spell slips from Yennefer's lips, in familiar Elder speech that she's certain the girl doesn't know when she's awake. Ciri falls silent, the mumbling and humming halting softly. She keeps her hand on the girl's temple until she's fully relaxed, shoulders slack and breathing normally, with a bit of drool running down her chin. Much better. All that peculiar energy at that old farm Geralt had spoken about, and this innocent child is most likely at least part of the reason of it.  
Her hand finally releases her and strokes the girl's wet hair to the side. There's still some dirt clinging to the blond strands and she's pretty sure that's a leaf sticking out over there. Yennefer finally realizes what she's known ever since the girl had been screaming in her head.There's no way she can drop her off at the police or just send her on her way on her own. 

She's always liked lounging in bed until the clock at least hit noon. Geralt didn't mind and although he slept very little, he'd make sure he was there when she woke up. Now, however, she's far from rested and there's something poking her bare arm that won't go away no matter how much she ignores it.

"Yennefer...I kinda burned something."

What. Something does smell like it's unpleasantly crisp. Not like an actual fire though. Her eyes fly open and Ciri's standing at the bed, dressed in her filthy clothes from the day before, looking at her like guilt personified. She sits up, squinting at the girl, the wool blanket she'd cocooned herself into dropping to her hips.

"Where did you even find anything to burn?"

Ciri's eyes drop to her breasts, then wander back up, widening at her glare.

"Well, a lady came by and said she'd brought some supplies, and I was hungry." 

"And you just opened the door?" Yennefer asks incredulously while she climbs out of the bed to look at the state of the kitchen. The girl bites her lip and shrugs. 

"Are you going to make something to eat?" Ciri asks finally.

"What? No."  
The girl looks so disappointed Yennefer feels like she needs to fix it before it gets worse. "We'll go out and get something, all right?'

"Okay!"

Well, that's an easy fix. With some of her energy recovered, she manages to conjure up some clean clothes so they won't have to look like they're on the run. 

Yennefer knows there are plans she has to take care of today, but there'll still be time in the afternoon. It feels a bit strange, walking down the quiet road with a child in tow. Ciri isn't holding on to her hand like it's a lifeline anymore, but keeps trailing behind her, poking into side streets and staring up at shop windows. Only when others stop and look at them, she'll make sure they know she's not alone.

"Do you think people here think I don't belong?"

"No," Yennefer replies without hesitation, "they might wonder why you're not at school, though."

"My mom always taught me at home anyway." 

"I see."

"I get these headaches," the girl explains, like she's had to multiple times before. 

Yennefer pokes and prods over breakfast and learns that most of her suspicious about Ciri are true. No living relatives she knows of. Been on her own on the farm for weeks since her parents were killed. No education regarding magic whatsoever. She's not oblivious, she knows it's magic causing her pain at night. She also would probably sacrifice her left hand for a waffle, if Yennefer gave her the option.

When they get back to the flat, Yennefer has been brooding and still hasn't come up with an idea of how to get a few of her things without involving Tissaia. 

"Can I stay out a bit longer? I'll be nearby," Ciri asks, hands clasped together dramatically. 

"Uhm," Yennefer hums. She has no idea if the girl can be allowed to be out on her own. Tissaia hadn't let her stroll around alone and she'd always hated it.

"Actually, how does this work, can you tell me what to do?"

"If you're staying with me, I should get a say, that's only fair." She's trying to sound confident and Ciri doesn't look convinced.

"Am I staying with you longer?"

Yennefer feels like throwing up her hands in defeat, asking how she's supposed to know. She hasn't asked for this, for a vulnerable child to look up at her and expect her to know what to do and it's terrifying. But she can't help but care.

"We can try to get those dreams of yours under control," Yennefer suggests. 

"I'd like that. I slept good last night."

"Well, Ciri."

"I know."

"Half an hour, then you're back, all right?"

The girl stomps back down the narrow stairs like she's known them all her life and Yennefer lets her head fall back with an exasperated sigh. That'll be two calls to Tissaia for favours in two days. But she'll need her books. And someone uninvolved to keep an eye on the Witchers.  
Ciri comes home late, without her jacket, but with a new pet frog.

Yennefer has just managed to get Ciri to sit still on the couch so she can finally brush her hair out properly when Tissaia knocks six times. The same pattern they used back then and the one she's taught Ciri as well.  
She practically floats inside and raises an eyebrow at the scene in front of her. "When did you turn so...domestic?" 

“Did you bring what I asked for?” Yennefer asks back.

“In the car.” Tissaia waves her off. 

She’s so very reluctant to leave the two alone and when she comes back upstairs and stashes the bags in the bedroom, Tissaia’s expression looks urgent. 

“That could be some exceptional potential.”

“You’re not taking her. This is safer,” Yennefer replies quietly, lips pressed tightly together. She opens one of the bags and checks the titles on the books. At least calling in the favour was worth it.

“She’s not yours.” 

“I know.”

Ciri stands in the door, hairbrush still in her hand and cheeks reddened with anger. “I can hear you, you know?” 

"Have you talked to her about the Witcher?"

"What? No-"

"Ciri," Tissaia interrupts her, "don't open the door for any men with yellow eyes." 

"Fine," the girl agrees, feeling at least somewhat included, "Why not?"

"Don't open the door for anyone," Yennefer corrects. 

"...but especially not for those," Tissaia mumbles. 

_

Learning to control your thoughts and their reach takes a lot of practice, discipline, and sitting still. Ciri enjoys the practice, the other parts not so much. She doubts sometimes that she's able to do what Yennefer asks of her, but when she first speaks to her without using her voice, the two of them lying on their bed on a warm evening, she learns there's more to herself. 

"That's impressive," Yennefer smiles at her and by now Ciri can tell which of her smiles is genuine. This moment feels like a peaceful daze and she doesn't want to disturb it.  
"You've been working a lot," the girl says and rolls over on her stomach. Her hands play with strands of black hair absentmindedly. She doesn't want to ask, but Yennefer only hums quietly as a reply. "What's that spell you're working on?"

She thinks she's said something wrong or Yennefer hasn't heard her at first, until she cranes her neck to look at her.  
"A friend of mine is very sick. But finding the correct spell to cure him is proving to be difficult, since we don't know how he got sick." She turns back and Ciri hasn't heard her voice sound this sad before. "And we don't have many chances."

"I can help," Ciri suggests. She's learned quite a bit the weeks they've been here so far, but Yennefer still keeps secrets from her. She gets up at nights, assuming Ciri is sleeping, and works in the living room. It worries her and even when she is fast asleep before Yennefer gets up, she sees how tired she looks in the mornings before she applies her make up. 

"It's dangerous, Ciri. He's dangerous," she whispers and holds up the covers so Ciri can slip under them. "It's... he's had a ritual performed on himself that changed him. He's very strong now, more so than a normal human, but the ritual was old and not perfect. It took his humanity with it."

Ciri makes herself comfortable under the covers. "Sounds like a monster. Let me help? I've gotten pretty strong." 

Yennefer chuckles at first, but then nods at her. "I've made plans to meet someone who has access to more information on the ritual. It'd be a great help if you could look out for me when I meet him."

She could prepare a spell to knock him back. Or possibly make one of his legs fall asleep. Or temporarily blind him. Yennefer pulls her closer when she hears her suggestions.  
"No, you'll run and get help if anything happens."  
Ciri crosses her arms defiantly, but nods. Fine, she'll study a spell on her own then.


End file.
